CHAPTER TWO

SOFIA

I sit on a fallen log at the edge of the hunting grounds, my hands shaking as I dab antiseptic on the claw marks. Every throb of pain reminds me of Andrew's voice calling Anne's name while I fought for my life.

The betrayal sits like acid in my stomach. Three years of marriage, and when I screamed for help, he ran the other way.

"Sofia?"

I look up to find Anne approaching with a covered plate, her face arranged in perfect concern. The woman has somehow found time to change from her hunting clothes into a flowing dress and brush her hair until it gleams.

My jaw tightens. The last thing I need right now is fake sympathy from the woman my husband rushed to save.

"I brought you some food," Anne says, settling gracefully beside me on the log. "I thought you might need something after your... ordeal."

The pause before 'ordeal' makes my jaw clench. Like it was nothing. Like nearly dying was just an inconvenience.

"Thanks," I manage through gritted teeth.

"I was so worried when I heard about the attack." Anne's voice drips false sympathy. "It must have been terrifying being out there all alone."

All alone. The words twist in my chest because they're true. I was completely, utterly alone while my mate ran to another woman.

"I handled it," I say, but my voice cracks slightly.

"You're so brave." Anne's hand flutters to her chest. "I don't know what I would have done in your position. Thank goodness Andrew was there to find me when he did—I was paralyzed with fear just hearing the sounds of fighting."

My grip tightens on the plate. I remember exactly how Andrew had reached Anne—by running past my screams to find her.

"He was so protective," Anne continues, her voice warm with gratitude. "Making sure I wasn't hurt, staying close until the danger passed. Such a strong, dependable Alpha." She pauses, tilting her head with false concern. "I hope you understand," Anne continues, her voice taking on a mock-concerned tone. "I know it might seem like he was neglecting you, but you've always been so independent. So capable of handling yourself."

Each word is a carefully placed blade. Anne knows exactly what happened—knows Andrew abandoned me to save her instead—and she's rubbing salt in the wound.

I want to scream. I want to grab Anne by her perfect hair and tell her exactly how it felt to be abandoned. Instead, I force out, "Of course. I'm glad you're both safe."

"You're so understanding," Anne continues, her voice taking on a confiding tone. "Not every Luna would be so gracious about their mate protecting another woman. But then, you've always been different from typical pack mates, haven't you?"

Before I can respond—before I can say something I'll regret—Andrew's voice cuts through the evening air.

"Did you see the way Anne handled herself out there? Incredible—brave, composed, everything you want in a Luna."

My blood turns to ice. I can see him standing with Alex and two other pack members, his face animated as he gestures.

"She'll make an excellent addition to any pack," Alex responds diplomatically.

"She will." Andrew's voice carries clearly across the distance. "God knows we could use someone with her connections and political training. Anne knows how to make the right impressions, how to handle real leadership responsibilities."

The unspoken comparison hangs in the air like a blade: unlike me.

Anne's smile widens as she listens to the praise. "I should go join them. Andrew wanted to discuss some alliance details with me." She rises gracefully, smoothing her dress. "Take care of those wounds, Sofia. We wouldn't want people thinking Moonridge can't protect its own Luna."

I can't believe my ears. I sit frozen as Anne glides toward Andrew, who immediately brightens when he sees her approaching.

"There you are," Andrew says warmly, the affection I remember so clearly now directed at another woman. "Ready to go over those trade agreements your father mentioned?"

"Of course," Anne replies, touching his arm lightly. "I have some ideas that might interest you."

I shake my head and stand abruptly, the plate of food tumbling to the ground. I've seen enough heartbreak for one day.

As I walk toward the pack house, memories flood back—all of this started a year ago when Andrew decided Moonridge needed to be more than it was.

"We need this, Sofia," he says, pacing our bedroom like a caged animal. "Moonridge is dying. We're weak, isolated, barely hanging on."

"There are other ways—"

"What other ways?" His voice is sharp with frustration. "We've tried everything else. This alliance with Alpha Stonehurst could change everything."

"At what cost?" I demand. "Andrew, you know the rumors about Roderick Stonehurst. The way his enemies just... disappear. The territories that mysteriously fall under his control."

"Rumors," Andrew dismisses. "Gossip from jealous Alphas who can't match his success."

"It's not just rumors." My voice is urgent. "I can feel it—there's something wrong with him. Something dark. This alliance will bring that darkness to our pack."

"You can feel it?" Andrew's tone turns mocking. "What are you, a fortune teller now?"

"I'm your mate, and I'm telling you—Roderick Stonehurst isn't someone we want to be indebted to."

Andrew stops pacing, his face hardening. "So what's your solution? Let Moonridge slowly die while we maintain our moral superiority?"

"Find another way. There are other strong packs, other potential allies—"

"None with Stonehurst's reach or power," Andrew cuts me off. "This is our chance, Sofia. Our only real chance."

"And when he comes to collect on what we owe him? When he asks for something we can't give?"

"We'll handle that when it happens."

But I know, deep in my bones, that Roderick Stonehurst isn't the kind of man who asks for favors. He's the kind who takes what he wants.

I'd been so focused on warning Andrew about Roderick's dangerous reputation that I missed the real threat. Anne herself—Roderick's daughter and supposed political liaison—was quietly tearing our marriage apart, thread by thread.

The first time Andrew completely forgets about me still burns like acid in my chest. The Moon Blessing Ceremony, six months ago—a sacred event where the Alpha traditionally opens the dance with his mate as a public sign of unity.

I spend weeks preparing. A new midnight-blue gown that brings out my eyes, my hair pinned with the silver wolf-claw ornaments that belonged to Andrew's grandmother.

I tell myself this will be the beginning of healing between us, that maybe seeing me dressed for him will remind Andrew of what we once had.

The pack gathers in the ceremonial clearing, moonlight casting everything in ethereal silver. The music swells, haunting and beautiful, and the crowd parts to create a path for the Alpha to cross to his mate.

My heart pounds as Andrew steps forward in his formal black suit, looking every inch the powerful Alpha. This is our moment—our chance to show the pack that our bond is still strong.

Instead, his gaze slides right past me.

He extends his hand toward Anne, who stands with the visiting delegation in a flowing white dress that makes her look like moonlight incarnate.

"The honor of the first dance," Andrew says, his voice carrying across the silent clearing, "goes to our distinguished guest from Iron Ridge Pack."

The entire circle watches as he spins Anne into the center of the ceremonial space. She laughs, bright and musical, as he guides her through the ancient steps meant for his mate.

The moonlight catches the gold in her hair, and Andrew's face is more animated than I've seen it in months.

I stand frozen at the edge of the circle, heat creeping up my throat from pure humiliation. Whispers spread through the crowd like wildfire. Several elders exchange meaningful looks. Even the visiting pack members seem uncomfortable with the breach of tradition.

The bond in my chest pulls painfully, raw and frayed, as I watch my mate dance with another woman during our most sacred ceremony.

When the music finally ends, Andrew brings Anne back to her spot with the delegation, his hand lingering on hers. Only then does he remember I exist.

"Traditional obligations," he says quietly when he finally reaches me, offering his hand for the second dance like it's a chore. "Anne needed to feel welcomed. Her father sent specific instructions about honoring their delegation."

"It was only to make Anne happy," Andrew explains later when we're alone, his voice defensive. "So she can whisper good things about me to her father. You understand how important this alliance is."

But I understand something else entirely. The pain of watching him choose Anne over me, even in our most sacred moment, cuts deeper than any wound.

And it's only the beginning.